


High-Octane

by PatchworkFelicity



Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Car Sex, F/M, handjob
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 13:23:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10640712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PatchworkFelicity/pseuds/PatchworkFelicity
Summary: All those beautiful cars and he's never once thought about everything they could be doing in or on them? She's about to correct that error.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Effloresense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Effloresense/gifts).



> A birthday gift for Effloresense. 
> 
> May or may not have subsequent chapters about more car-related sexcapades. ;)

Seven is all good-manners, and I don’t doubt for a moment that his calm facade is every inch believable as he greets the guests we pass with a smile and a nod. He’s charm incarnate, hands poised clasped at his back and he looks so proper, like a butler, that I can’t help but grin to myself a little. I know better the storm that’s building within him, rumbling thunder only a preview of what’s on the horizon, and I feel so joyous to know it’s all because of  _ me _ .

We step into the elevator, watching the troupe we’d just passed still visible down the hall and I immediately realize, for a few short seconds as we descend to the parking garage, we will be alone. He keeps his distance from me initially, and even as the doors close and I dare to let my gaze find his in the mirrored panels of the lift. I am awed at his control. I do not see the way his gloved fingers are digging into his palms. 

As soon as the elevator begins to move so does he, and my back is pressed to the cold, hard wall, a startling contrast to the wave of heat that shoots through me. He’s pinned me there, hoisted me up with a bit of effort and grunt so that my legs embrace his hips. My skirt gets in the way a bit, a little tangled in my limbs, but as always he doesn’t let a minor detail deter him. All he wants for the moment is to press himself against me, just a taste to briefly satisfy and fuel his need until he can properly tend to it. There’s too many articles of clothing to hope for much else here. I wrap myself around him best I can, meet his lips with equal fervor and no concern for being even remotely chaste about it. Every touch, brush of tongue, fistful of hair and grind is perfectly obscene. It’s what we need to make it to the car.

As soon as we feel the world begin to slow, he reluctantly loosens his grip, allowing my feet to find the floor again, knees wobbling. He almost does not break contact - he never wants to - and his touch drifts up my thighs, withdrawing only long enough to smooth the layers of my dress before they return to my hips. Still he leans into me, bent so his forehead presses against mine, glasses a little askew on his nose as he looks down at me. I can see the hastened rise and fall of his chest in my peripherals, watch the breath fall between his parted lips. God I want to kiss him again so badly…

So I do. He hums deep and low, and I make sure to press my hands to his chest so I can feel it. I had used to think his voice could not get more sensual than it already was, rich and full. I stood happily corrected.

We’re lingering there a bit too long after the doors have opened, but the garage is empty aside from the vehicles it is housing. It’s me who finally causes us to part, and even then he tries to follow. I catch his gaze again, offer him a rosy, cheeky smile. His own comes, but it’s not the mischievous and playful grin everyone knows from 707. It’s half-cocked, a scorchingly hot and promising smirk - one more thing I had never been aware he possessed but, God, I’m glad I’d learned. He brings a hand to the wall beside me, the other leaving my hip so he can bring his fingers to his lips. I watch, breath hitched and caught as he brings the fabric of the middle finger between his teeth and bites, slowly drawing his hand away until his fingers, long and lithe and oh-so-talented, are exposed. He grasps the glove and murmurs.

“I won’t be needing these anymore.”

***

It was only a few hours earlier when I was fixated on those very hands while he tugged on the finishing touch to his outfit for the night. Seven was a pleasure to witness in all states of being and watching him get all gussied up for a party was almost as enjoyable as seeing him strip it all down. For all his joking around he actually took great care in looking presentable for the RFA’s engagements and he cleaned up so very nicely. What a shame it only made me want to undo it all. But, alas, we had somewhere to be and the shenanigans would just have to wait. 

As he holds the door of one of those sleek little cars of his open for me, I slide in and get comfortable against the luxurious interior. Our trip to the party’s location is pretty standard fare; light conversation peppered between bouts of singing duets with whatever mix he currently has programmed. What a sight we must always be hidden behind tinted windows, looking so refined as we exchange rap solos while one of us beatboxes with the music. He’s always been ridiculously good at it - certainly better than me - but I can tell he appreciates my effort nonetheless.

Then there are times amidst all our playing that I spot him throwing glances at me when he thinks I’m busy admiring the scenery. I let him believe it because I enjoy the way his amber eyes flicker over my form, head to toe. He gets that look, sometimes even bites into his lower lip...just a little, and I know that all the subtle details I’ve put into my appearance for the night are already working better than I’d hoped.

Our arrival at the venue always pans out the same. We enter together, but proper hosting duties draw us apart for most of the evening. Before we step away, Seven always makes it a point to find my hand with his gloved one, interlacing our fingers and giving a gentle squeeze and caress of tips to palm. It’s a silent promise that this parting is temporary and that he won’t be very far. 

 

I suspect the sentiment is as much for him as it is for me.

 

Despite all the distraction, it’s not unusual for us to catch each other’s gaze from across the room. The smiles we exchange are simple affection now as we do our best to encourage generous donations with meticulously crafted conversation. I remember how awkward this used to be for me, all nerves and rookie uncertainty. I’d received plenty of advice since then, but it had been Seven’s support that had kept me steady. Somehow he’d always seemed to know when I’d be looking for him, ready to throw me an exuberant thumbs up. 

Tonight is different, though, and I notice our eyes lock for a second or two longer than normal. It’s a challenge to know which of us will look away first. In the end I turn away, coaxed back to the matter at hand by some question or another. Even then, I can still feel the weight of his unwavering focus and my mind hazes over with curiosities about what’s changed.

Could it be the fact my skirt is a little shorter than any other I’ve worn in his presence, soft and swaying when I move my hips? Maybe it’s the lingerie, which has given my bust a little extra oomph, complimented by the gently laid silk, pooling at the neckline. Or perhaps it’s a combination of things - the dress, the stockings, the way I’ve done my hair. Seven has always been about the little details and he never misses a thing. Two extra seconds tells me all that I need to know.

It’s not much, but it’s  _ enough _ . 

Tender affection goes all alight in a spark and something wicked unfurls inside me. Once more, I speculate over whether Saeyoung is actually aware of the natural seductive power he has at his disposal, or if he only  _ plays _ at being innocent. Whatever the truth may be, I cannot bring myself to sit idly by. I feel brash and a little reckless. I want to know just how long he is going to keep looking - how long he can stand it. 

 

Ensuring he’s still watching me out of the corner of my eye, I shrug my shoulders up just enough that the loose neckline of my dress drifts a bit further down my arm. I go on about my conversation like I haven’t noticed, waiting reasonably long enough before I gracefully upright and resituate. The style already has my collar exposed, something he’d seemed to find quite intriguing given how much attention he’d paid me there while I was modeling it for him. Given the fact he hadn’t turned away from gawking yet, I wagered the little maneuver was reminding him just how much he liked it. 

I am terrible. I continue to act oblivious while going about my business, completely purposeful in every motion I take, knowing now that I am being watched. He might be hiding among the crowd, but when you are a tall redhead with style like Seven it’s hard to miss him. When I pause at the refreshment table, I feign straightening some of the decorations, leaning over just enough so that the right angle gives a certain someone a perfect view of my propped up cleavage. 

Oops. I seemed to have been too exuberant picking up my glass! I theatrically fret as I dab at the droplets of sparkling cider that have sprinkled my chest with a napkin. Once it’s all cleared away, I count the seconds before the always observant Seven-oh-Seven is at my side. Even if I hadn’t intentionally been trying to rile him, he would have appeared as soon as I looked upset. He’s protective like that.

A hand finds its way to my hip and draws me into his side as he leans in to place the lightest of kisses to my forehead.

“Everything okay?” he asks quietly, his breath on my ear and low murmur of his tone sending a chill through me. That’s his  _ bedroom _ voice. Unmistakable.

“Mmm,” I assure him with a singular nod, nudging myself slightly against him, hip to hip. “Just had a little spill. How are things going on your end?”

“Everything is A-OK. As usual, you have outdone yourself with this crowd.”

“Haa, flatterer,” I tease.

“Flattery nothing. I’m just speaking the truth. Everyone says it.” He pinches the spot just above where he’d taken hold of me and I squirm, tickled.

“Oh,” I give him my prettiest pout. “I was hoping you were trying to sweet-talk me so I’d go home with you tonight.” He chuckles in that delightful way I still remember from our earliest phone calls and tilts his head towards me as we continue to survey the room during our chat.. 

“Have I told you how gorgeous you look yet?” 

“Not in the last hour.”

“You’re gorgeous.”

“Thank you. You’re looking quite pretty tonight as well,” I schmooze, pleased at how he can never stop himself from blushing to any degree. Instead of hiding it now, he lays on the humor, fussing over his hair and attire.

“Oh, I do hope so! My hair would  _ not _ behave. And the wrinkles in this tie, you wouldn’t believe--!” More of his jokes. He always has wayward curls that spring up despite his efforts, but I don’t mention them. I find them too cute. The bit about his clothes is more of a fib. Even though he has no problem tossing his everyday wardrobe around, I know he keeps his formal wear - and each of his costumes - hung and cleanly pressed at all times. 

I take a moment to admire him standing there beside me, feeling endlessly lucky that I get to call him all mine. The path of my appreciation settles on one of his hands at it smooths down his tie and I realize that I’ve never really asked him why he started wearing gloves. Despite finding them quite charming and elegant, it had occurred to me that I hadn’t seen him don them until more recently.

“These are nice,” I comment, reaching up to lay my hand over his, fingertips tracing his knuckles. “They’re new, aren’t they? I don’t think you were wearing them at the first party.” 

He regards me for a couple silent moments, lips parted as if I’ve caught him off guard. 

“No, actually,” he finally says, flexing fingers beneath my touch, but not pulling away. “I used to wear them a lot when we first started holding the parties.” A lopsided grin splits over his face now. “It was kind of a precaution then though. I needed to make sure I wasn’t leaving fingerprints everywhere.”

Oh, I hadn’t suspected there was such a serious reason behind them, but when I considered, it did make sense. Seven had been working primarily from behind the scenes for years, only making a brief appearance at the actual events for the sake of ensuring all was well. The less traces of himself he left, the better it was for him. At some point along the line, he’d chosen to abandon the hand-wear. Perhaps he’d found other, more efficient ways to keep evidence of his presence minimal since then. If all that was true, why had he begun to start wearing them again? Worry must have been clear on my face, because he caught me before I had a chance to ask.

“It’s because of you.”

I was struck silent, blinking. Call it a bad habit of mine, maybe a bit of old insecurity rearing its ugly head, but my thoughts immediately raced to figure out what I could have done wrong. Things had gotten tense when I joined the RFA. I wouldn’t argue I’d been a bit of a catalyst to a lot of trying times for everyone, even if I’d been brought into the situation without knowing what I was getting into. 

Although it had all ended well and I wouldn’t have changed a thing for all that had brought us here, I still worried time to time over the stress I’d put Seven under. After the events with Mint Eye and his brother, he was still cautious and ever vigilant. He’d told me measures had been taken to ensure his previous employer would cause us no trouble, but he’d cultivated many years of ill will with many people who might retaliate if they ever discovered who he was or what he’d done. And now he not only had to worry over his own safety, but mine as well. It felt as though he’d had to take ten steps backward for all his forward progress.

“Because of your break with the agency,” I supposed aloud, trying not to sound too troubled. “You have to be more careful about our security.” Imagine how confused I was when Seven’s brows shot up and eyes flew wide.

“What? Oh,  _ God, no _ ,” he insisted, grasping my hand in his gloved one as he turned himself towards me and pulled me in. Strands of crimson hair tickled my cheek as he came close so he could speak more privately, right into my ear. I am almost certain the words shudder as they fall from his lips. “It’s because… When I feel you....the warmth of your skin... I can’t concentrate on anything else.”

Suffice to say, my brain short circuited. Self-woe and guilt drowned beneath the heat that surged through me then. All the blatant teasing I’d been throwing at him thus far this evening was blown away with a few simple words. Forget all my strategizing for my outfit tonight to earn me the most pleasing response, all  _ he’d _ had to do was put on those damn gloves!

He  _ had _ to know what he was doing. He  _ had _ to. No one innocent was _ this good. _

“Saeyoung,” I spoke soft, immediately noting how his fingers twitched. I lifted my free hand to those held between us, edging my fingertips down towards the edge of the fabric where his glove and shirt met.  “I’m going to make one more round of the party. Fifteen minutes...twenty, if unforeseen topics arise.”

“Hm,” was all the acknowledgement I received. Nudging the cuff of his shirt down just enough, I let my thumb caress the bare skin of his wrist, catching the rhythm of his pulse. My words became little more than a whisper.

“Meet me at the elevator... I want to take you home.”

***

The city is gorgeous at night, all lit up against a twinkling sky. It’s almost as if we are driving among the stars themselves and the thought fills me with a special kind of sentimentality, knowing what that notion would mean to him. The venue this year was not terribly far from our home, but in times like this impatience makes the trip seem longer. It is as if we are hitting every red light on the main street. I can see he’s beginning to grow anxious, the leg that is not in charge of the pedals bouncing restlessly as he tries to lean back against the leather and chill, one hand on the wheel.

While we’re paused at another intersection, I reach over and lay my hand over his resting at his knee. He glances over at me and had I not been touching him I might not have noticed how he flinched just a hair. Seven’s running circles in his own head, trying to think of anything else so he doesn’t get distracted while he’s driving. I’ve interrupted his mobius strip of thought, and he gives me a guilty smile.

“Are you okay, babe?” I ask.

He laughs that tickling little chuckle of his.

“I’ll be fine once I get you home,” he says, brows bobbing once. It’s not as though he needs any innuendo for me know what he means, though his expression is still adorable. The heat welling between my legs with anticipation has yet to fade and all I need to do is summon a memory or two to keep the embers of my desire burning. Seven plucks up my hand and kisses my knuckles before laying it down where we’d begun. That works too.

I say nothing as the light turns green, purposefully waiting...debating...as we pull out away from the main drag onto the roads drawn across the outskirts.

“You know…” I don’t need to speak too loudly to fill the quiet on these more solitary paths. There’s music playing over the car’s speakers, but the volume is turned low, making it little more than white noise amid our thoughts. I let my fingers stroke over his hand, running the lines of his fingers. “You don’t have to wait _ that _ long…”

I keep my eyes on him, teeth pressing against my lip as I wait to see realization creep over his face. It never quite gets there. Instead, he seems puzzled and glances at me before turning his eyes back to the road.

Oh. Oh my.

Could it be, that even with all these beautiful cars, my devious 707 hasn’t once thought of what he might do with them…? I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised; he didn’t exactly have time in these past few years to let his mind wander too terribly far. I’d be more than happy to lead him to places he’s never traveled, though.

I say nothing to alleviate his confusion, but let my actions speak for themselves and allow him to fill in the blanks. It shouldn’t take too long. 

My fingers give his hand a tender caress one more time before they start to go wandering. I’m grateful for the fact the road is empty save for us, traveling leisurely, because I’m almost certain Seven might chastise me for doing something dangerous. He might do so regardless, if he can remember a scolding after the fact. 

He’s sensitive on his inner thigh, and unable to help himself jumping a little when my touch finds its way there. His eyes dart to me, but then return faithfully to the road. Lips part, and I’m certain he’s trying to ask me what I’m doing. I steal his words away by drawing my palm down and up again against the prominent bulge in his pants. No wonder he’s looked so uncomfortable up until now. I give him a pitying rub.

“Ah…” The breath comes as part exhale, part shiver. Oh, I’m  _ horrible indeed, _ reveling as the lust overtakes his face in a brilliant red hue.

“This is all my fault,” I coo. “Let me take away some of the tension for you.”

“N-now..??” he grunts. He won’t look at me. I think he’s afraid of what he might see, or that he might not be able to look away again and that would be bad right now.

“You just concentrate on driving, love. I’ve got this…”  I draw my middle finger along what I can feel of his length, restricted beneath his trousers. His hips shift in his seat and I’m unsure if he’s trying to move away or not, because the motion only serves to press him further into my hand. The look on his face certainly is conflicted, though his need is consuming everything else with relentless vigor.

For a time, I tease him, lifting my eyes to the scenery out my own window as my fingers fiddle about in a naughty little dance. Eventually they traipse their way up along the zipper of his slacks and I ponder ways to undo the upper clasp with only one hand. It isn’t long before I’ve figured it out and I can’t help the almost cheshire grin that curves my lips as I splay open his fly. 

He hasn’t looked down yet. Hasn’t looked at me. Like a good, responsible driver he’s keeping his attention on the things in front of him, but he swallows hard enough for me to hear it. 

I’m encouraged by the fact he hasn’t protested at all, and admittedly, pleasantly surprised. Considering how stiff he’s become, I imagine he’s feeling quite desperate. As I edge his pants down to gently free him of some of the tension, he exhales with a modicum of relief. He’s still confined by his boxer-briefs, but at least they are much more forgiving to his strain. 

I bite into my lip, noticing how he slides down in his seat a degree or two, legs settling themselves a little wider. As I palm him once more, he most definitely bucks up before catching himself when his foot nudges the gas more than he’d meant to. The car revs up, but not enough to send us lurching. Saeyoung corrects his error immediately.

I begin to feel a hint of guilt itching at me and wonder if I should stop this - wait until we get home. It’s not too far now. He’s already looking a bit of a wreck, unable to keep his lips together as his breath comes a little heavier and quicker. I slip a couple of my fingers in the little opening of his underwear, stroke him gently, and he utters the most beautiful sound in the back of his throat - part growl, part whine, all need.

It’s all the motivation I require to take a leap. Some careful coaxing easily has him out and half exposed to the air, which makes him visibly shudder. I unabashedly wrap my hand around him, and when I start to move, I wonder if he’ll be able to continue maintaining what sliver of control he has left. 

He does, for a short while, but I am taken by surprise when we are suddenly diverted from our familiar path of travel and onto a side road with a slight screech of rubber on asphalt. My confusion causes my hand to still and I momentarily forget all those evil little notions that had been filling my head.

“Saeyoung?” I ask. “Where are we going?”

“Detour,” he replies, his voice rough. Before I can make sense of it all, we are driving where the trees are more numerous, away from the urban landscape of the city. Just as I’m trying to discern where we are - I have less luck in the dark - he’s taken us to what appears to be a park. It’s empty now, but is probably busy during the day, hosting picnics and barbecues.

The car stops in one of the many stalls of the lot and he thrusts it into park and flicks the keys to the off position. Flopping back against his seat only briefly, he seems to remember he’s exposed and hurries to shuffle himself back in his pants. Then he’s out the door and I am flabbergasted as I watch him round the front, taking a seat against the hood. Anxiety flares within me and I frantically suspect I’d gone too far, even made him angry. I thought I had been reading him right, just playing as we always did.

Hesitant, I finally find the courage to open my own door and slip out, walking slow and cautious towards him. He’s hunched as he sits there and I edge forwards, folding my hands and bowing my head in some semblance of remorse. Only when I am directly in front of him does he lift his head to look at me. My breath hitches at just how thoroughly turned on he still looks. He’s trying to even out his breathing, that much is clear. It’s a trial not to just try to jump him right then and there. I remind myself I should be feeling bad about this, but I’m not sure I’m convincing myself. Besides, we are out in the open and that hardly seems…

“Just give me a few minutes,” he requests, lifting and setting his glasses atop his head so he can rub at his eyes with two fingers. 

“Are you okay?” I venture, moving to take a seat beside him. I allow just enough space between us to avoid being intrusive, if he truly is upset with me. The warmth of the metal beneath us helps to chase away any chill I might have gotten from the night air.

He laughs, a little breathless as he turns to regard me again. As always, my heart flutters in my chest seeing him without the glasses. His eyes are beautiful and vibrant, even in the dark. The shadows only make his features appear more sharp and alluring.

“I’m amazed you can ask that, considering.”

“Considering?”

“C...Considering you were just... _ manhandling  _ me while I was driving.”

I press my lips together, feeling a blush quickly overtaking my face. I’d been completely unabashed about it at the time, but when he said it aloud I couldn’t help but feel a twinge of embarrassment. It didn’t help that I still was unsure whether he’d enjoyed it or not. Well... _ some _ of him certainly did.

“I’m sorry. I got kind of overzealous, I guess. I...wanted to try something new. I thought you might like it.” I’ve averted my eyes now, glancing down at my heels as my fingertips fiddle with my skirt. “I mean, we’ve been getting a bit more adventurous lately, so…”

“...What?” he asks, and the depth of his tone is enough to snap my attention back towards him. I’m not entirely prepared for what I see looking back at me. I’m not sure if I’ve ever seen anything like it before. “Tell me.”

“I just...thought, maybe, it could be fun to do something naughty in the car. Like in a fantasy.”

“ _ Your  _ fantasy?”

“Hmn. I thought a lot of people fantasized about that. Sex and cars. Haven’t you?” My curiosity is well and truly piqued on this subject and Seven seems to be searching his memory for some data that should be there, but appears to be missing. The longer he dwells, however, the more it’s as though his mind is creating and compiling the missing files as we sit there. What images and scenarios is he formulating, I wonder. I don’t deign to interrupt, although I do dart a glance downward for some confirmation of what I suspect is going on in his head. I notice he has not actually done up his fly yet and he’s just short of escaping his pants any minute.

On my end, it’s like washing in and out like the tide, swimming between being apologetic and wanting to see just how far he’s willing to go...with some coaxing. Adjusting my dress I lean back a little on one hand, resting the other in my lap, nestled in my skirts just enough that it draws the edge up against my thigh.

“Saeyoung?” I ask, tearing his attention away from where I’d just directed it. He’d always been good at looking me in the eye when I say his name. My lips part and pause for a breath of a second before I prod him a little further. “Haven’t you?”

“...shouldn’t...in the open. People...” I don’t catch half of what he says when he finally utters some syllables,tripping all over his tongue. I can make an educated guess.

“Seven-oh-Seven. You know very well the probability that anyone will discover us out here,” I tilt my head, intentionally using the name of the famous hacker. It reminds him that I am fully aware of just how brilliant and methodical he really is.  “You didn’t turn down this road randomly… Did you?”

He exhales. It’s deep and full-bodied. It even sounds half a laugh. One of his legs is bobbing again, toes pressed into the dirt as he closes his eyes. Watching him there with his arms crossed he looks nervous, but I’ve seen this all before. Seven is solving equations in his head, and I know exactly when he’s done because the leg suddenly stills. 

I couldn’t say just how quickly it actually happens. One moment he’s sitting there looking conflicted and then next he’s found himself and is on his feet in front of me. Hands grasp my thighs, sliding me forward on the hood of the car. He leans into me, pulling my hips flush with his as his lips crash desperately against my own. 

My stockings and panties do nothing to guard me against the night air as fabric bunches up about my waist. I know I had been the one instigating this, but the exposure makes me instinctively conscious of our surroundings. I fret for a few, short seconds while my thoughts come in and out of focus. It’s hard to concentrate on worrying while Saeyoung presses searing kisses along my neck, biting, sucking and undoubtedly leaving a few, possessive marks with which he lays his praises upon me. 

How could I possibly think of anything even remotely logical when I feel him grinding up against me, fueling a fire that I’d been gradually stoking all night. I’m not sure if he simply slips out of his slacks again or if he has to help himself, but I suddenly am aware of a familiar, warm length pressing up against my thigh. That skin-on-skin friction plucks a whimpering chord inside him and I find the sound so delicious I can’t help arching. Reflexively, he catches me with a hand at the small of my back as I keen backward, lowering me down gently even when everything else about him cries for something more feral. I reach for him, one hand landing on the tensed muscle of his bicep momentarily holding me aloft, the other gripping his tie and yanking his mouth back to my own. The sharp motion causes his glasses to topple from his head. I blindly reach for them to tuck them near the windshield for later.

In order to remain level with me, he has to hoist himself up a little farther onto the car. One hand presses flat on the hood at my side. Even in the rush he shows concern, but I can’t help but laugh a little at his choice of words.

“Is it too hot?”

“Mnm,” I murmur, the shake of my head subtle enough to be interpreted as a simple brush of lips against his. “Just right.” He grins, that roguish, delightful thing. 

“I installed a cooling system, so I guess I needn’t have worried. I’d never really considered it being beneficial for this, but --”

My consciousness is a dizzying whirl, drunk on the wondrous disbelief that this is actually happening. I do not want to lose this momentum. Seven’s tech talk is normally adorable in that quirky way of his, but this is not the mindset I need him in right now.

“Saeyoung.” 

“Yes?”

I give the tie another tug to bring us eye to eye again.

“Shut up and fuck me on this car right now.”

I’d demonstrated a bit of a dirty mouth in the throws of passion before, but I don’t think he was prepared for me to just come out and say that. Truthfully, I don’t think I had expected it either, but there it was. We were already halfway there and I was dying for some satisfaction, a happy ending to this little wet dream translating to reality. I wasn’t sure I could take him getting distracted right now, which was often what happened when he ventured into unfamiliar territory. It was best to keep the directives simple.

The command was like flipping a switch and I watch his eyes return to something dark and lusting. Once more he grips my thighs, guiding my legs up around him before he reaches down between us and runs his fingertips against the lace of my panties, thoroughly soaked through at this point.

“When did you get so impatient?” he muses, drawing the thin barrier aside so he can trace my slit with a singular, lithe finger. 

“Since you put the gloves on,” I say, shivering at his touch. His brows lift slightly as he continues to stroke me tortuously slow. 

“I didn’t know you had a fetish for gloves.”

“Me neither. Guess we’re both discovering new things about ourselves tonight, hm?” I lift my hips up, silently begging for more pressure, but he’s decided to be a relentless tease all of a sudden. It doesn’t matter which way I twist myself, he refuses to touch me where I really want it.

“Yes. It’s a bit of a problem.”

“What do you mean…?” I ask, confusion and frustration furrowing my brow. Saeyoung leans up over me, eyes studying the details of my face before locking with mine. The wry smirk curling his lips is too damn beautiful.

“I have so  _ many _ cars,” he says and I only grasp his meaning for a fraction of a second before all the sense is knocked out of me. His first thrust is unyielding and deep, bringing him up to the hilt. I dare say Seven has even surprised himself with his own force, because he freezes and has to take a few, ragged breaths before he can find the mind to move.

My mouth had opens, but I don’t think I’ve actually made any noise - only gasps - as my head tilts back against the hood. I sting with having been so mercilessly spread, but as soon as he settles into a rhythm, massaging away the ache with each push and pull, I practically turn into a puddle beneath him. I reach for him, fingers grasping at his shirt, his vest, loosing buttons whenever I find them, probably a little too roughly at times. By the time I open my eyes again, I’ve completely disheveled him, much to my viewing pleasure. The tie is hanging, half undone, collar dragged to one side as the shirt lay partially open against his chest. It only makes me want to touch him more, dig my nails into his skin and see him shudder. I do just that and he does not disappoint. 

He’s watching me again, rapt, and rather than shy from the attention I revel in it. I stretch and curve as I put on a show for him, ensuring he’ll have plenty to fantasize about every time he drives. His hands are preoccupied with giving him leverage and holding himself above me, so I let my own go where his normally would. Shamelessly, I explore myself, daring to edge the neckline of my dress down so he can enjoy more of the way my breasts swell with each panting breath. His gaze narrows and I can see the slightest hint of his tongue teasing out against his lips. When I palm one breast, his eyes roll back and he moans, driving inward as deep as he can go. 

I can tell when he’s drawing close, though it seems the final release has sneaked up on him sooner than he’d realized. His newly minted car-sex fantasy has excelled him forward faster than usual and before he has a chance to concern himself with anything else, he’s panting and whimpering through his orgasm. Even though I have not reached the edge myself, I still bask in his afterglow, loving the feel of him within me until his arms and legs begin to wobble, threatening a loss of his hold. Carefully, he slides himself away from me until his shoes find the pavement again. The look on his face is pleasure kissed and a shade apologetic.

I give myself a minute, allowing my muscles to relax again with the loss of him before I sit up and shimmy down to find my legs again, smoothing my dress. 

“I’m--” Quickly, I press a finger to his lips to shush him, clicking my tongue.

“Now… I told you none of that. I got  _ exactly _ what I wanted,” I say resolutely, moving in to kiss him tenderly on the lips a few times as I gently tuck his softening length back into his pants and dutifully zip them again. I leave everything above that alone, though. I want to enjoy the vision of him like this a bit longer. “Let’s go home.”

Even in disarray and post-sex daze, he’s a gentleman, opening my door for me and ensuring I’m all settled before he climbs in himself again. I’m admittedly amused that even he doesn’t seem like he wants to fix anything that’s out of place on himself right now. I imagine he just wants to go home and collapse in bed.

I look out the window as the car finds its way back onto the road, which winds onto the one that will take us home. My mind wanders to what Seven had said earlier, about the other cars…and I can feel my still tingling core clench in anticipation of things to come. I debate about whether to hold off until morning or if I should take a shower and satisfy myself quickly before turning in for the night.

As my thoughts start to play back what just happened, punctuated by the echoes of what it felt like to have him above and the warm metal below, I doubt I’ll be able to sleep unless I find some relief.

That’s when I feel something tickling against my thigh. I glance down at the sensation and am strangely flustered to find Saeyoung’s hand caressing up beneath my skirt. My eyes dart up to look at him and he seems perfectly at ease, eyes on the road and leisurely relaxed into his seat with the other hand casually laid on the wheel. As his fingertips travel inward, nudging ever closer to the junction between my legs, my nerves go aflame, reddening my skin in a brilliant flush. 

It occurs to me all of a sudden that he is not taking the most direct road back home.

He’s taking the fucking  _ scenic _ route.

“Seven!” I declare, incredulous.

He offers me a quick glance, the fiendish intent clear and written brazenly all over his face.\  


“Turnabout is fair play, babe.”


End file.
